


Moment of Truth in Your Lies

by royal_chandler



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Imported, LiveJournal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2931302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_chandler/pseuds/royal_chandler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been months—long months if he’s being honest with himself—since he’s allowed himself to be alone with Karl like this. Not since—well in his head, Chris calls it ‘The Break-Up’, caps and hyphen but that particular term may be too melodramatic, even for him. Sure there was fighting and yelling and giving up and <i>so</i> many shards of broken hearts that Chris still finds himself stepping on them but nothing was ever official…so yeah, Chris just calls it that in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moment of Truth in Your Lies

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I Fall So Hard Inside the Idea of You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2909531) by [royal_chandler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_chandler/pseuds/royal_chandler). 



> Originally published May 21, 2010. 
> 
> This work was beta'd by the amazing, wonderful, and ever kind, [thalialunacy.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy) Any and all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Officially a sequel to "I Fall So Hard Inside the Idea of You" but can be read on its own.
> 
> The title is a line from "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls.

“So who will it be tonight?”

Chris looks up from his breakfast but not with confusion or puzzlement; he knows exactly what Zach is referring to. He finds himself with a zoomed-in eyeful of Zach’s Blackberry. After leaning back to get a sharper focus, Chris rolls his eyes at the picture of him and his date from the previous night exiting one of Hollywood’s hottest nightclubs—the image beneath a headline that reads as if it was stolen from an eleven year old girl’s slumber party or one of Zach’s drunken ramblings.

He pushes the phone back out of his personal space, starts to feel a little nauseated. “Same one.”

Zach doesn’t bother to hide his surprise and gives his phone a suspicious glance before switching his attention back to Chris. “Really? Doesn’t seem like the type you’d go for.”

She isn’t. Jasmine is such a polar opposite that Chris sometimes gets dizzy from the overwhelming rush of everything that is just plain _no_ and absolutely wrong. And, yeah, normally Chris would dismiss her immediately—yet in a gentlemanly fashion—but there’s pressure from the studio and the people who organize his public image like puppeteers, insisting on every breath that he must embrace Captain Kirk. According to the experts, showing up to premieres with an empty arm looks weird and that is definitely something that Chris is not allowed to be. So during the weeks leading up to the sequel’s debut and the press tour they fling human octopuses in his direction to cling onto the edges of Chris’ rising star, and Jasmine just happens to be the latest ‘aspiring actress’ to share in Chris’ limelight.

“Giving her another chance.” To grow a brain, he adds silently.

Chris would call it a snort if it were anyone else but Zach is entirely too graceful for that. The sarcasm, though, is quite classy. “That’s so generous of you. You’re right up there with Mother Teresa and the Dalai Lama, Christopher. Keep at this rate and maybe one day you’ll even surpass Jesus.”

“Well, considering how long I had to listen to her rousing conversation over the tensions on Jersey Shore, I do think that I deserve some kind of medal…at least a Boy Scout badge,” Chris retorts, squashing a corner of his French toast under his fork and watching the syrup flow over the crust with mild interest.

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” Pausing considerably, Zach adds, “In all seriousness, I must say that I never thought your PR would drop the ladykiller angle.”

“Trust me, it took a lot of begging and pleading. Not that this girl they’re sticking me with is much better.” Chris sighs heavily because the silence is becoming too much to keep within his chest. “I’m just tired of them.”

And they both know that them is everyone who isn’t Karl. And Chris must be looking pretty goddamned pitiful if Zach is giving him _that_ expression. However, to Chris’ relief, Zach doesn’t dive into that topic. Instead he bares a sympathetic smile while patting Chris’ hand lightly, admitting, “I’d give you Zoe if I could, but I think that the Spock and Uhura fans would eat me.”

Chris’ laugh is small and a little half-hearted but comes out willingly. “I know, man. I know.”

&&&

Technically, Chris shouldn’t be taken aback when he receives the possessive text from Karl later that afternoon. Zach may not force Chris to talk but the fucker is damn schemey, so of course Karl is demanding that Chris cancel his date tonight. He can only imagine too well how the news had made its way to Karl’s ear.

The only thing that should shock him is how long it took.

But poor Karl picks the wrong moment to start shit because at the end of a particularly crap coffee outing that ended up with him being swarmed by paps, Chris is ticked off and the last thing he needs is Karl fucking Urban trying to stake some sort of claim. Not even bothering to mutter his curses—and sure that those outside of his car must think that he’s nuts—Chris texts back furiously.

Sent to Karl @3:55pm  
What the fuck is your problem? Are you planning to piss on me next?!

Sent to Karl @3:55pm  
Dude, get the FUCK out of my face.

Received from Karl @3:56pm  
I’ve got a better offer for you than some plastic…whatever.

That stills Chris’ thumbs over the keypad.

Received from Karl @3:58pm  
Pine?

Chris narrows his eyes at the screen and hates himself for this but actually _considers_.

Sent to Karl @3:59pm  
Doubt you’ll be able to get a room at such late notice…

Sent to Karl @3:59pm  
…asshole. Because you’re still a fucking asshole.

Received from Karl @4:00pm  
Yes. Please tell me all about it when you get here. I’m confident that it won’t be difficult to book a room at my own house.

Chris’ brain shuts off at that and his heart and stomach play a game of musical chairs. So the next response is no fault of his own:

Sent to Karl @4:01pm  
Her boobs were 100% real.

&&&

Hours later, while Karl is grabbing stuff from the kitchen, Chris is fidgeting with the hem of his shirt on Karl’s couch while trying to remember how to intake oxygen properly.

He has two things counting against him.

It’s been months—long months if he’s being honest with himself—since he’s allowed himself to be alone with Karl like this. Not since—well in his head, Chris calls it ‘The Break-Up’, caps and hyphen but that particular term may be too melodramatic, even for him. Sure there was fighting and yelling and giving up and _so_ many shards of broken hearts that Chris still finds himself stepping on them but nothing was ever official…so yeah, Chris just calls it that in his head.

Next is the fact that Chris has never been in Karl’s place without the buffer of their castmates and he feels ambushed, ensnared by the enclosing and claustrophobic walls that are pushing furniture and pictures at him.

Anxiety at an all-time high, Chris shuts his eyes tightly. Deep breath in through the nose, long breath out through the mouth. A routine Chris picked up during his time at U.C. Berkeley when doing his best to ignore every doubt that had crept up on him in the wings of the stage.

But it’s failing and Chris is ready to bolt until he feels a warm hand on his shoulder that brings him down to earth.

He accepts the glass that Karl is handing him before he even recognizes it. He opens his mouth to say thank you but for some reason that phrase doesn’t want to make way so he settles with, “Red wine?”

Karl shrugs as though it’s nothing. “It’s your favorite, right?” He sits by Chris on the couch and Chris can feel the trails that his gaze traces. “You good?”

Chris swallows. The concern and tender care feel like home…and this was a really bad idea. Casual dates and nameless faces are easier. Chris can do that. It’s tiring, yes, but they’re easier and more manageable—he dares a look at Karl, concedes to who he truly is—and they’re hardly worth anything. At the end of the day, they wouldn’t be worth pain, glory, or the journey but Karl is and always has been. “God, no.” He sips at the alcohol that he knows will not lessen the buzz of his nerves. He places the glass back onto the table before him. “You have absolutely ruined me. I mean, you get that, right? You have screwed me over for anyone else.”

“Am I supposed to say I’m sorry?”

“If you’re not, no. I don’t want anymore lies.”

“Then I’m not sorry,” Karl confesses, leaning into Chris’ space and Chris leans too. Brushing his deft fingers alongside Chris’ face, Karl goes on. “I hate you’re hurting but I’m a selfish bastard who doesn’t like sharing.”

Chris draws back, speaks so that there leaves no question. “I’m not yours to share.” A sour line straightens Karl’s lips; Chris isn’t deterred. “You can’t just decide to pick up your phone and interrupt my life—”

“Because everything is fucking dandy.”

“—you should just get yourself a fucking fire hydrant, really.”

And Chris has more arguments because when he’s worked up, he’s quick and will pull things out of his shoe if need be. But stupid Karl is not stupid and has perfected a weapon that at many times has had Chris struggling to remember B after A.

Karl’s dramatic impromptu kisses taste just like his goodbyes. Too short. It’s déjà vu—and innate—when Chris makes a noise of protest at Karl pulling away.

“You haven’t dated anyone twice since before we started filming, Chris,” Karl states, eyes intent and doing that penetrating thing with Chris’ soul.

Chris hasn’t thought about it and he should be a little sketched out that Karl has kept such meticulous tabs but he’s not because it’s true and while it says too much to admit to it, Karl came with an instruction manual on how to handle Chris. “Okay.”

Karl nods and being the detailed person that he is, clarifies. “I know that we haven’t done anything besides the hotels and such. However, other than myself, there have been no repeats for over a year.”

Chris nods along with him. “Duly noted like twenty seconds ago. I’m a co-dependent loser.”

Karl pecks him again and it almost makes Chris wish that Karl had been around during his self-loathing adolescence if that the reward he gets. Looking as though all he wants to do is feed Chris chicken soup and tuck him in, Karl says, “Shut up,” then pauses and seems uncertain. “Do you have feelings for her?”

This time Chris does truly wish that sometime in the near future they get through this shit, because Karl should never be asking that. “No. And that’s a huge resounding, iceberg-shattering no.”

The relief that shines in Karl makes wildlife like that of a Disney fairytale flutter inside of Chris. It gives life to his motor skills and he gently but firmly presses Karl back into the cushions that decorate the couch. Karl’s legs fall open and make room for Chris to fit into. They wrap around one another where they can and slant in areas that are made with planes and flanks.

Karl nips at Chris’ lips then chuckles lightly. “Quinto thinks that you’re dying.”

Chris laughs at that. He learned a long time ago to expect the unexpected. “Metaphorically? Yeah, I can see where he’d get that. That bitch would throw Emerson in my face.”

“Didn’t mean to be such an asshole," Karl starts after a certain amount of comfortable time has passed. "You’re not a keycard or some possession to me. I swear that you’re not. But fuck, you _are_ invaluable, Pine.” He's stroking his hands at the long stretches of Chris’ sides. “Just felt like I was losing you more than I already had, you know?” He reddens around his ears. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Shaking his head, Chris assures, “It does. I’m sorry.”

Karl tightens his hold and kisses fiercely at Chris’ temple, whispering wet and warm at the skin there. “Don’t be. You needed time and space away from me so you could be okay with what you were feeling. I always got that. Maybe overestimated, eh?”

Steadily, the fog that’s been Chris’ mind is cleared, in phases, like falling through the atmosphere. Chris sees where they’ve been stupid, wasting time by downplaying what they feel for one another and in Chris’ case, insisting that it could be willed away. He’d been so afraid of getting hurt but honestly, it was the loneliness that really killed him. Being with Karl had been hard and complicated but being without him is impossible.

“Not the only dumb one.” Chris initiates a kiss of his own, moves to lick the small dip at the edge of Karl’s mouth. “I missed this, needed it—needed _you_ so badly,” he says softly, drawing invisible figure-eights onto Karl’s chest. “Every date, every night—I felt like I was cutting out my heart. Got so fucking sick of it.” With a choke, he states, “I just want you, Karl. It’s always—”

And he doesn’t get a chance to finish because suddenly hands are all over him and with each passing second, there’s a new draft cooling his flesh that is simultaneously heating. Chris pushes against Karl instinctively and traps his hands between their bodies to do away with Karl’s shirt, first yanking away the belt and proceeding to feel up the familiar smooth pulled over hard muscle. When it’s finally off, Chris stares appreciatively. “God, how did I ever go without this?”

“I keep asking myself the same damn question. I don’t plan on letting it happen again,” Karl responds, reaching up and maneuvering them so that Chris is underneath him. He latches his mouth onto the solid bones that guard Chris’ neck before dragging his tongue down Chris’ middle, taking the time to teethe and suck hard. He pulls off momentarily. “Love you, sweetheart.”

There’s no time for Chris to respond because time flies to the part when Karl’s lush mouth is teasing the head of his cock with flicks of tongue and then wrapping hot and tight under the crown and beyond.

“Fuck,” Chris mewls, canting his hips and pushing his fingers through Karl’s thick hair. He bends his head to watch as his cock slides in and out of Karl’s pink, stretched lips. He gasps out, “Oh, shit.” Nothing compares to sight of Karl’s long lashes falling against his high cheekbones, the tears that escape from the corner of his eyes when he takes Chris’ cock to the back of his throat. Reaching out, Chris wipes them away until his trembling fingers are interwoven with Karl’s. “ _Karl…_ ”

Hazel eyes blink open and Chris is undone by everything he sees there, unravels shudder by shudder, and collapses back with heaving pants.

Chris is dimly aware of Karl settling over him, palming his quivering stomach. “Mmm…”

“You good?” Karl asks for a second time, and Chris can hear the smile in his voice. He answers back with a smile of his own.

“I can’t see. Gone blind or something,” Chris mumbles happily.

Karl squeezes him lightly. “Maybe you should open your eyes, Pine.”

And Chris doesn’t want to be greeted by any other face when surfacing from a post-orgasmic state. He cups the back of Karl’s head carefully before bringing them nose to nose, shivers at the sparks he’s sure are passing between them. Grinning so full that it should hurt, Chris kisses him deep, full, and slow before whispering, “Love you, too.”


End file.
